


Thank You

by Angryangryowl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cursed Sam, Fluff, Kissing, Led Zeppelin - Freeform, M/M, Sleeping Beauty Elements, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3271457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angryangryowl/pseuds/Angryangryowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a post on eroticallycodependantsoulmates' tumblr</p><p>wincest sleeping beauty au or something where someone casts a spell on one of them thinking that the cure of true love’s kiss wouldn’t work because like you know their lifestyle doesn’t really allow for that sort of thing but then as a last ditch effort the one not under the spell kisses the one who is and it fucking works</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank You

‘It’s hopeless, Dean. Really. He knew what he was doing, and now he’s dead and I’m...’

He couldn’t quite finish the sentence without his voice cracking. He inhaled deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his long fingers and settling resignedly on the edge of the bed. Dean stayed standing, raking his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t believe how reckless, how freaking stupid he’d been letting Sam try to talk down a damn witch rather than knocking her into next week straight off.

Sam usually was the voice of reason, and compassion. Dean loved that about him. After so many people, life and heaven itself screwing him over, he was still ready to give people a chance. He’d stared evil in the face enough times to know that you don’t try to friggin’ reason with it. Look where that had gotten him.

Sam lifted his chin to face his brother, pushing his hair back from his face. His pure white eyes stared blankly ahead, unseeing. ‘What are we gonna do, Dean?’

His pleading face tugged at every nerve, every fibre of Dean. It was like being ten again. Giving Sammy the last of his candy, telling him not to worry and tucking him in at night. His first instinct was to lie, tell him everything would be fine and that they’d fix this. But how exactly? He had squat.

‘What the hell does he mean my true love?’ Sam whispered to the floor. ‘I can’t break it. She’s gone. If I ever had a true love, she’s dead now, Dean. The irony, man...’

Even as he laughed to himself, fat tears welled around the pearly orbs where his soft hazel eyes used to be, beading on the thick lashes before spilling miserably down his cheek. Cow eyes, Dean used to say affectionately. 

Dean sat gently next to him, gingerly putting an arm around Sam’s shoulders, and a little surprised when his brother rested his damp cheek against his shoulders. ‘You’re gonna be okay, Sammy.’ He murmured into his scalp. 

‘It’s not. It’s pretty damn far from okay. I can’t – I can’t hunt, I can’t stay with you, I can’t do anything for anybody.’ 

For once, Dean had nothing to say. He rubbed Sam’s back, soothing him as best he could as he sobbed weakly into his shoulder. There was a vague sort of comfort in the apple smell of his thick locks. Flopping backwards onto the bed, he let his brother curl his tall frame around him, his cheek on his chest, and a leg slung over Dean’s. Sam was considerably bigger than when he’d last sought comfort in his brother’s arms as a gangly, nightmare-plagued child, but somehow it still felt the same. 

As Sam had gotten bigger, he didn’t understand at the time why Dean wanted more time to himself, more space in his own bed. And by the time he left for Stanford, Dean was entirely done with him. So Sam shoved down every feeling, every thought, all the love that chewed away at the inside of his chest until he could almost stamp on them. He could just never quite do it.

‘Dean?’  
‘Yeah?’  
‘Maybe we could..’  
‘Could what, Sammy?’  
‘Maybe- No, you know what, forget it.’  
‘Sammy, if you’ve got something, tell me. I’ll try anything.’  
‘Really, it’s nothing.’

That was far, far too close. He’d already lost so much, Dean thinking he was a freak, a pervert, Dean not wanting to talk to him, Dean leaving. That really would be too much to bear. At least now he could hear the rumble in his chest when he spoke, feel him near, smell soap and old leather on his clothes. A kind of peace settled over them.

After maybe ten minutes of silence, the older Winchester humid absentmindedly as his brother settled on his chest. Sam recognised the tune, Led Zeppelin he thinks. The first couple of lines, mumbled to the air, escape Dean’s lips. 

‘If the sun refused to shine,  
I would still be loving you...’

It’s not directed at him, obviously. But he appreciates the sentiment as he slips into a fitful sleep. As his breathing starts to deepen, Dean shifts to lie on his side, facing Sam. He feels the cool press of his lips on his forehead, and habitually opens his eyes to smile his thanks.

His brother’s freckled face, with its laughing green eyes and slightly sad smile greets him.  
‘Hey..’  
‘Holy shit Sam, your eyes!’  
Sam exhibits the newfound use of his now-brown eyes by rolling them dramatically.  
‘This isn’t...this isn’t what you...is it?’  
‘I guess so.’ Sam’s lips twitch into a slight frown as he prepares himself for the worst. He feels the flat of his brothers palm gentle on his cheek, nudging him to look at him again.  
‘Don’t know why I’m surprised. I couldn’t leave you, not for anything. I love you half to death, you know.’ 

The next kiss is their first kiss, really. Sam’s lips claim Dean’s before he can think twice about what he’s doing, his wide palm settling in the small of his back as he pulls him close, almost fainting with relief when his brother responds with soft, lazy kisses. They lie tangled together, sharing soft kisses and the comfort of each other’s hands. 

After waiting so long for each other, it doesn’t seem like there’s too much hurry for anything else.


End file.
